


Baby Bird [Larry Stylinson AU]

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, M/M, idk - Freeform, idk man just a thought mr fox, if you haven't read that book yet do it, it's called my lucky day by keiko kasza, lots of other characters that show up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-01
Updated: 2013-08-01
Packaged: 2017-12-22 03:19:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 5,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/908278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis Tomlinson is a drama teacher at Germaine Academy, a prestigious private school in South London. His best friend, Zayn Malik, is an English teacher there too, and when Louis gets a new TA, they become quick friends. But soon feelings change, and new relationships are born.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rescue Mission

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this awhile ago and I'm still working on it tbh but yeah it's not done (obviously) and the chapters are short but I hope you like it

Louis Tomlinson had never been a particularly organized person, but as he surveyed his flat, even he saw an insane mess.

“Shit,” he sighed, grabbing a few dirty shirts and tossing them into his laundry hamper.  He wasn’t even sure how ninety percent of the mess got there, but it had most likely happened last night, when he and Zayn had watched TV until two-thirty in the morning.  He regretted that now, especially since he had to leave for work in five minutes.  The two of them had gotten completely smashed and woken up with horrible hangovers, but after a cup of tea and a glass of ice water each, their headaches had been reduced to a dull throb.  

“Zayn Malik, get out here, we have to leave in,” Louis checked his watch, “three minutes!”  Zayn, Louis’ best friend, shuffled out of the spare bedroom, where he stayed whenever he slept over, which was quite a lot to be honest.  He was dressed for work, but his eyes were still quite swollen and his breath smelled like alcohol.  

“Don’t be so loud,” Zayn winced, putting a hand to his head.  

“Here.  Put these on your eyes and eat this.”  Louis handed Zayn two cold peppermint teabags and a peppermint candy.

“Why do I have to put these on my eyes?” Zayn asked dubiously, popping the candy in his mouth and holding up the teabags.

“Because the combination of the cold and the tannic acid will reduce the swelling around your eyes,” Louis answered brusquely, snapping his bag shut.  “We have to go, put them on in the car.”  He held up Zayn’s bag, which Zayn grabbed, and walked out the door.

 

In the car, Louis drove and Zayn had his head tilted back, the teabags resting on his closed eyes.  To his grudging surprise, they felt quite pleasantly tingly and cool, and he enjoyed the feeling of them on his eyelids.  All too soon, however, the car stopped at Germaine Academy, a prestigious private school in South London.  The two of them taught there, on opposite ends of campus.  Both of them got out of the car, enjoying the warm May air and the rare cloudless day.  

“Well, I’d better get to class.  Lunch?” Zayn asked, walking backwards.  Louis nodded, smiling, and set off for his classroom.  

 

Louis loved his job.  The kids were great, most of the time, and he loved being able to teach them all he could.  He was a drama teacher, and even though some girls just took drama so they could look at him (he knew it, but that didn’t mean he let it go to his head), most of the kids in his classes were dedicated actors and filmmakers.  

Today was a rarely beautiful day, so he brought his acting class outside.

“Your assignment for today is to pick a prop, which can be anything ranging from a twig to an acorn, give it a backstory, and perform a scene which revolves around the prop.  You can work in groups of three or pairs, but no more than three.  We have about an hour and then we have to get back inside to meet our new TA.  Get to work!” he yelled, spreading his arms wide.  His students scattered, searching for the perfect prop.  These were his favorite classes, the ones where the class had an opportunity to let their creativity show.  He plopped down on the grass, leaning back on his elbows, and watched the kids running around on the field, picking up small items and throwing them down.  One student, Elena, sat down next to him, cradling something in her hands.

“What’s up, Elena?” he asked, sitting up.

“I found this baby bird and . . . um, it looks like it fell out of its nest.  I know I’m not supposed to touch it until, like, a few days after it’s fallen but there was a cat sort of lurking around and I don’t know I just really . . . I don’t know,” she finished, her voice trailing off.  Louis inhaled slightly as he stared down at the tiny ball of feathers in her palms.  Sometimes he forgot these kids were only fourteen.

“You know what, I think I have a box in the theater.  Come with me, we’ll get this baby fixed up, okay?”  They both stood, and Louis closed Elena’s hands around the bird.  “Hey, guys!  We’re going to forget about the assignment for today, okay?  Today is a rescue mission!  Elena found a baby bird that’s been abandoned, and she’s going to take it home, but first it needs an environment.  Jesse, Margaret, you two go to the theater and see if you can find a spare shoe box.  Laura, Emily, and Theo, go to Ms. Crosby’s room and see if she has any old t-shirts we can rip up.  Sarah and Channing, go get a couple little bowls from the science labs -- with permission, and no secret makeout sessions!  The rest of you, start digging for worms!”  The rest of the class period was spent using whatever the kids could find to dig for worms.  Eventually Jesse, Margaret, Laura, Emily and Theo came back with the box and the t-shirts, but Sarah and Channing took a bit longer.  When they finally came back, everyone could tell they hadn’t listened to Louis one bit.  They’d gotten the bowls, though.  

After they’d settled the bird -- they’d decided on a name, Buzzy -- and set him up with some worms and water, they headed back in, all windswept, dirt-covered, pink-cheeked, and grinning.  Louis had completely forgotten about the new TA, however, who was sitting in the theater, checking his watch.  

“Sorry!” Louis said as soon as he walked through the door.  “We were on a rescue mission.”  The TA didn’t look impressed.  He raised an eyebrow.  

“A rescue mission?”  Louis nodded, gesturing to the shoe box Elena had carefully placed on the front table.  

“One of my students found a baby bird and we rescued it,” he said, flipping through the manila folder that the new TA had put on the table.  “So you’re in university, right,” he checked the file, “Harry?”  Harry nodded, running a hand through his curly hair.

“Yeah, and I kind of want to be a teacher, so I decided to sign up for the TA program.”

“A drama teacher, or something else?”

“I’d like to be a music teacher.  They put me in the drama department though, my friend Gabriel got the music slot.”  Louis nodded.

“Well, we’re about to start our musical unit, so if you wanted you could work with the kids on their songs,” he suggested, closing the file and handing it back to Harry.  

“That sounds like fun,” Harry said, smiling crookedly.

 


	2. Flirt

About a week had gone by since the Great Buzzy Rescue, as the class had come to call it.  Harry fit in well with Louis’s class, cracking dirty jokes while sitting cross-legged on the stage.  With his curly hair and big green eyes, he’d become the Love Interest of many girls, who huddled in the doorway between classes, swooning as he marked notes on a sheet of music or played a work-in-progress on the piano or hummed to himself as he strummed a guitar.  Louis straight-up had no idea where he got the guitar from.  

One morning, Zayn had the day off (the English department was doing renovations or something), and so he decided to come help Louis teach and meet Harry.  When the two of them walked into the theater, they could hear a piano playing a beautifully simple melody, a voice accompanying it.  The voice was husky and smooth, sliding over the notes with ease.  The piano wasn’t too overpowering, just a wonderful accent to the amazing voice.  Zayn and Louis looked at each other, wide-eyed.  Was that Harry?  They walked further into the theater to see Harry sitting at the piano, his fingers dancing across the keys.  

“Wow,” Louis said simply, causing Harry to snap out of his reverie.  

“Oh, shit, sorry, I didn’t . . . um, sorry.”  Harry started fumbling with his sheet music, trying to put it all back in his folder, and hurried past them.  Louis grabbed the back of his collar, however.

“Was that you singing?” he asked Harry, who was now resignedly slumped.  

“Yep,” Harry said quietly.  “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have touched your piano without you here, I just --”

“No, no, by all means, touch the piano,” Louis said, smiling slightly.  Harry relaxed a little.  “That was amazing.  This is Zayn, by the way.  He’s in the English department.”

“Oh, yeah, I saw him out by the field the other day.  That was you, right?”  

“Yeah, and you should probably get ready for class,” Zayn said, nodding towards the door, where three girls and a boy were waiting patiently.

“Right.  Zayn, go sit over there or something.  Hey guys, come on in.”  The kids filed in and sat down in the cushioned theater chairs, slinging backpacks and purses into adjacent seats.  

“Mr. Tomlinson, is the homework assignment due today, or did you want us to perform it later on?” a girl called Immy asked from the second row.  This question was followed by a cacophony of responses, ranging from ‘We had homework?!’ to ‘Immy, god damn it, I was hoping he’d forget!’.  Louis smiled.

“The homework is going to be due next class, Immy, thanks for asking.”  A rather robust girl called Jamayka plopped down in a chair in the front row, winking at Louis as she got out her notebook.  He smiled uncomfortably back.  Was it just him, or were the girls getting more forward nowadays?

 

Class seemed to stretch on and on that day.  After the bell rang, Jamayka sauntered up to him as he packed up his lesson plans for the day.  

“Hi, Louis,” she purred, putting her hand on the table directly next to his.

“Um, it’s Mr. Tomlinson, please.  Was there something you needed, Jamayka?”  The girl batted her eyelashes, and Louis had to resist the urge to gag.

“Sorry,  _Mr. Tomlinson_ ,” she said, his name dripping with emphasis.  “And no, not really . . . I just wanted to see if I could . . . help you with anything.”  Louis turned away, closing his folder and clipping his bag shut.

“Uh, no, thanks, Jamayka.  Shouldn’t you be getting to your next class?”  He gestured at the clock.  She raised her eyebrows.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you didn’t want me around,” she said, pouting.  Louis sighed.  

“I have to go, actually.  You should be getting going too.”  And with that, Louis turned and left, Harry following him.  

 

Out in the parking lot, Harry turned to Louis with eyebrows cocked.

“Does that happen often?”  Louis groaned, opening his car door and tossing his bag in.

“Unfortunately, yes.  Do you want to go to the pub?  My treat.”

 

 


	3. Drunk

At the bar, Louis had bought Harry a beer and himself the same thing, though he wasn’t sure what Harry would want.  They sat for a while in silence, sipping their beers, until Harry broke the ice.

“This is good,” he said, indicating the amber liquid in front of him.

“Yeah, it’s my favorite,” Louis replied, lifting the tankard to his lips and sipping again.  The silence went on for a little longer.  

“How long have you been teaching?” Harry asked, taking a bite of a roll, which the pub supplied at each table.  

“About a year and a half,” Louis said, smiling.  Teaching was something he could talk about for ages.

“Did you start at Germaine, or did you start somewhere else?”  

“Nah, I didn’t start at Germaine.  I started at this shitty little school in Central London, called Brique’s Institution.  I didn’t know until my first day that it was a school for criminally troubled kids.  I quit pretty fast, and got picked up by Germaine.”  Harry was watching him with wide eyes.

“They didn’t even  _tell you_  that it was a nuthouse?” he said disbelievingly.  Louis nodded, sipping his beer again.  

“Not a nuthouse, exactly, just . . . a nuthouse,” he finished lamely, sending Harry into gales of laughter.  It wasn’t that funny, but he found himself laughing along with the younger boy, pounding the table and struggling to catch a breath in between stray giggles.  

“Oh, god,” Harry sighed, sitting back in the booth, still giggling a little.

“So how did you decide you wanted to be a teacher?” Louis asked, watching Harry, who looked thoughtful.  

“I had this great music teacher in year nine.  She was this tiny old lady and she told me ‘no matter how far you get, you’re going to need a friend along the way’.  I decided then and there that music was going to be my friend along the way, and she was just a really cool teacher.”  Louis smiled.  Harry really was a great guy.

 

Three hours and three beers later, Harry was slurring a bit.  Louis was surprised at his tolerance; the kid was only blending his s’s and r’s.  Louis had stopped drinking at the second beer, but Harry had just kept going, using his own money for his own drinks.

 

Another three beers had been finished by the time the pub closed.  Harry was really slurring now, tripping over his own feet, and forgetting Louis’s name.  Louis had an arm around Harry’s ribs and had draped one of Harry’s arms over his own shoulders.  They made their way, slowly but surely, out to Louis’s car, where Louis sat Harry down in the passenger seat and buckled him in.  Halfway back to Germaine, Louis realized he had no idea where Harry lived.

“Well, shit,” he sighed, taking a turn down Baker Street and heading for his flat.  

 

He pulled Harry out of the car, braced himself against his friend’s body, and heaved him up the stairs of the building.  When they got to his flat door, he unlocked it with some difficulty, fumbling with the keys as Harry continued to lean against him.  Inside, he rummaged around in his drawers for some pajamas Harry could wear.  When he turned around, pajama pants and t-shirt in hand, Harry was standing right in front of him.  Louis could smell the alcohol on his breath.  

“You’re really pretty, Lou,” he murmured, reaching out a hand and stroking Louis’s hair.  Louis froze, because in the position they were standing, his nose was just brushing Harry’s.  It was a very intimate pose.

“Harry, you’re drunk.  Take these and go get changed in the bathroom, it’s just down the --”  Harry kissed him.  Hard.  It was sloppy, as Harry was very, very inebriated, but it wasn’t  _bad_  sloppy.  In fact -- no.  Nope.  Nope.  Louis pulled away from the kiss, leaving Harry looking slightly hurt, and shoved the pajamas into his hands.  “Go change.  Now.  You get that side of the bed when you get back,” Louis said brusquely, grabbing a clean pair of PJ’s for himself.   _Jesus Christ._

 

The next morning, a Saturday, Louis awoke with a slight headache.  He could feel arms wrapped around his middle -- did he hook up with someone last night?  He turned his head slightly to see a head of curly brown hair.  Oh yeah.  He forgot about Harry and -- shit.  Harry.  The memory of the kiss came back, slamming into Louis’s mind like a truck.  Louis groaned and covered his face with the pillow.  He could figure it out later, when he didn’t feel like he’d been run over by a stampede of wild horses.


	4. Thoughts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SORRY IT'S SO SHORT OH GOD

Louis was unnecessarily cold towards Harry for the next week.  His class noticed it, Zayn noticed it.  Even Harry’s friends from university, Liam and Niall, who he brought round once to help him with a music score, noticed it.  Louis felt terrible, but the truth was that he’d  _enjoyed_ the kiss, and he didn’t want to have enjoyed it.  He was straight, for god’s sake!  They both avoided each other like the plague in class, which brought about awkward questions from the kids.  Jamayka took advantage of the awkwardness and flirted shamelessly with Louis, simpering and batting her lashes, wondering ‘what the big bad Harry did’ to make Louis so angry, and if she could help (if he knew what she meant).  

“Jamayka, thanks for all your support, but this is kind of illegal,” Louis snapped one day, slamming his laptop shut.  She blinked, looking stunned.

“But if we both want it, no one can stop us,” she said seductively (ish), leaning in close to him.

“I think you’re the only one there that wants it,” came a voice from the other side of the theater.  Both Louis and Jamayka snapped their heads up to see Harry, who was sitting with his arms around his knees on the stage.  He raised an eyebrow.  “Am I wrong?”

“As far as I knew, you weren’t exactly friends with Louis!” Jamayka bit out, her hands on her hips.

“Yeah, well, you can leave  _Mr. Tomlinson_ alone, because he has a girlfriend,” Harry retorted.  As childish as the whole thing was, Louis wanted to hug Harry.  Or maybe fuck him.  With that white v-neck and those damn necklaces, he wasn’t sure.  Or, you know, maybe just say thanks, have a blowjob.  He couldn’t decide.  

“Both of you can shut up, okay?  Jamayka, I have a significant other.  Harry, I don’t need your help.  Thanks a lot.”  Louis found his patience worn thin, and he stormed out of the theater, leaving the two of them to duke it out.  In fact, he almost hoped they murdered each other.  That would be two problems less he had to deal with.

 

Louis’s alone time consisted of tea, takeout, and Doctor Who.  He was having Chinese that night, from a place down the street called Yum Mee, which had a horrible name but delicious food.  His order was due to arrive any minute, and he already had the third season of Doctor Who queued up on his TV.  A knock sounded at the door.

“It’s open!” Louis called, grabbing his wallet from today’s jeans.  He was wearing pajama pants now, and he’d forgotten to put his wallet on the table like he always did.  The door opened and Harry’s friend Niall stood in the doorway, a paper bag in his left hand and a Styrofoam container in his right.

“Hey, Louis,” he said casually, as if he showed up at ex-friend-of-a-friend’s with takeout every night.  

“Hey, Niall.  How much do I owe you?” Louis asked, opening his wallet.

“Thirteen-fifty.  Anyway, here’s your food, and Harry’s pretty upset about the whole drunk thing.  No, I don’t know exactly what happened, but I can say with authority that when Harry gets drunk, he kisses people.  That’s all I’m going to say.  Enjoy your food.”  Niall closed the door, leaving Louis standing there with Chinese takeout, his wallet, Doctor Who on Netflix Instant, a teakettle boiling on the stove, and a mind full of thoughts that he couldn’t make head nor tail out of.


	5. Pizza and Orange Juice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so basically I've just accepted that the rest of the chapters will be this length-ish unless I stumble across some semblance of inspiration

Louis was mad at everything.  Thoughts, feelings, Harry, sexual urges,  _everything._   Why did stupid Harry have to kiss him the other night?  With his stupid green eyes and his stupid crooked smile and those stupidly large hands and that stupid fucking collarbone --  _stop it_ , Louis warned himself.  Why was sexuality so hard to figure out?  In a fit of frustration, Louis rolled over on his bed, picked up the phone, and called Liam.

“Hello?”  

“Liam I might be gay and I might love Harry and I’m really damn confused and do you have any pizza because I’m really hungry too but the point is I’m scared,” Louis said in a rush.  There was silence on the other end.

“Yeah, I’ve got pizza.  I’ll be over in a little bit,” Liam said after a while.  Louis sighed in relief, hanging up the phone and burying his face back into his pillow.

 

Twenty minutes later, a knock sounded on the door.  Louis dragged himself out of bed and answered it.  

“Hey,” he said listlessly, letting Liam walk past him with the flat pizza boxes.  They were frozen.  “Kitchen’s right there.”

“Man, you reek!  How long have you been lying there?  Go take a shower and I’ll talk to you when you get out.”

“But --”  Liam shook his head.

“Nope.  I’m not talking to you until you’re clean and smell better.”

 

When Louis got out of the shower, the entire flat smelled like pizza.  He headed towards the kitchen, still wiping water droplets from his face.  Liam sat at the table, a pizza in front of him, a glass of orange juice in his hand.

“Where did you get that?  I didn’t think I had orange juice,” Louis said, pointing at the glass.

“You don’t, but your neighbors do.  Anyway, sit down and spill,” Liam said, taking a slice of pizza.  Louis sat.

“So Harry kissed me the other night,” Louis said, drawing a plate towards himself.

“Was he drunk?” Liam asked brusquely.

“Yes.”

“Then it’s nothing to worry about.  Harry kisses everyone when he’s drunk.”

“But I kind of liked it.”  Liam looked up from his pizza.

“And you’re scared you’re gay.”  There was no question; it was a statement.

“Yes.”  

“Then kiss me.   _Just_ as an experiment, nothing more.  I have feelings for someone else anyway.”  Louis blinked for a moment.  Kiss Liam?  His indecision was brought to a standstill as Liam pulled him to his feet and pressed their lips together.  It wasn’t unpleasant, but Louis was really uncomfortable.  Liam’s lips were dry, and there was definitely some stubble around his chin, which kept scratching Louis’s face.  Liam’s lips were also slightly warm, which, if it was someone he had feelings for, might have been hot, it was just kinda gross, and they tasted like orange juice.  When they pulled away, both of them silently agreed that they were  _never_ doing that again.


	6. Bagels with Cream Cheese

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so damn short

Louis was lying on his bed, staring at his ceiling when someone knocked.  He sat up, his earbuds dropping to the covers, and looked at the door with no small amount of confusion.  Zayn had been staying at his own house of late, clearly tired of Louis's current angsty state.  They knocked again.

"Sorry!" Louis called, clambering out of bed and pulling the door open.  He knew that was a mistake as soon as he saw the curly mop of hair.  

"Hi.  I brought bagels," Harry said sheepishly, holding up a paper bag.  "And cream cheese."  Louis sighed.

"Come in," he said, standing back and letting Harry walk into his kitchen.  Those bagels smelled  _really_ good.  

"Why --" Harry started, but Louis interrupted.

"Let's just eat.  We can talk about that  . . . weird thing, whatever the fuck it is, in a bit."  Harry nodded, nonplussed.  He put the paper bag on the table and pulled out two foil-wrapped packages, which Louis assumed were the bagels.  Unless they were human hands, which was highly unlikely.  The cream cheese came next, and -- 

"Sorry, it's a little bit melty," Harry said apologetically.

"No, I like it melty," Louis replied easily, placing two plates on the table.  He unwrapped the bagels and put one on each plate.  When was the last time he'd eaten?  Oh yeah -- two days ago, that pizza with Liam.  He watched as Harry spread the cream cheese over the bagels.  He had really nice hands.

"Do you prefer toasted or bouncy?" Harry asked.  Louis raised an eyebrow.

" _Bouncy_?"  Harry flushed a little.

"Sorry, it's a term my family used to use to say not toasted."  Louis laughed a little at this.

"It's cute.  We used to just say not toasted, even though my little sisters tried to think of creative names for  _everything_.  There was this creek, down the road, and they got the idea that fairies lived there, so they called it Fairy Creek.  Not even kidding."  Louis bit into his bagel.  "This is really good."  Harry grinned.

  
Two hour later, they were still sitting at the table, their bagels long gone, talking.  Neither of them had ever been outside England, but they both wanted to travel.  Both of them had sisters; Harry's was older and Louis's were all younger.  Both of them had gotten Pikachu socks for Christmas when they were ten.  Neither of them had a maternal grandfather or a paternal grandmother.  

"So you were  _how old_  when you had your first girlfriend?" Louis asked, laughing.  Harry was laughing too.

"Three.  Now, if you're counting this by dates, it would be when I was six.  I had my first real significant other, a kid called Jack, when I was fifteen," Harry said, taking a sip of his juicebox (they were the only thing Louis had in his fridge).  

"The only person I was really serious about was this girl named Hannah," Louis said, tossing his empty juicebox into the trash can.

"Yeah.  When I was sixteen, I came out to my family as bisexual and my entire dad's family disowned me."  Harry crushed his now-empty juicebox in his hand.  And even though it may not have been the best time, Louis leaned forward and gently kissed Harry's lips.


	7. Panic Attacks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [dies] so short

 

 

 

 

Harry responded immediately, dropping the juicebox and taking gentle hold of Louis's shoulders.  His long fingers spread across Louis's skin and Louis shivered, placing a hand on Harry's chest.  The kiss seemed to last forever, just the two of them in their own little world, surrounded by the other's warmth, their scent.  To Louis's surprise, Harry pulled away first.

"What was that?" he asked cautiously, not taking his hands off Louis.  "Last time something like that happened, you ignored me for a week and a half."  Louis sighed.

"I know, I'm  sorry.  I just . . . I don't know about anything, I don't know and I'm scared of just . . . I don't know, being gay?  Coming out?  Being cut off from people I love, being ridiculed?"  His words seemed to continue on without his permission, but his mind was in one place and one place only -- how Harry's lips tasted on his own.  Instead of tasting like the juiceboxes they'd just had, he'd tasted like mint gum.   _Fuck_.

"You know, it's not that bad," Harry said, tracing a shape on Louis's hand.  Louis instinctively twitched his hand away, and felt horrible when Harry looked hurt.  

"I'm just confused, Harry," Louis sighed, tossing the screwed up aluminum foil into the trash.

"Well, I'll leave you to think," Harry said warmly, standing.  Louis stood too, but he didn't nearly measure up to how tall Harry was.  

"Thank you for not taking all this the wrong way," Louis muttered, but Harry heard him anyway.  He smiled.

"No problem."  He kissed Louis swiftly on the cheek and was out the door before Louis could say 'what'.  


Nighttime held its own horrors for Louis.  A survivor of deeply clinical depression, he still had 'war flashbacks', as he called them -- panic attacks at night, unreasonable fears coming to haunt him.  Normally he would stay up, shaking and sweating, overwhelmed with waves of nausea, and watch TV, but tonight he couldn't.  Nothing sparked his interest as he scrolled through Netflix.  He picked up his phone -- it was two-thirty in the morning.  Would it be horrible to call Harry?  He knew it probably would, but he dialed the number anyway and listened as the phone rang.

"Hello?"  Harry sounded as if he'd just woken up, his voice huskily hoarse.  

"Harry it's Louis and I'm sorry to bother you this late but I'm having a really bad panic attack and I can't control it and I don't know what to do help me they're not usually this bad and I didn't know who else to go to."  Louis was crying by now, his entire body shaking, his breaths rasping.

"I'll be over in five minutes," Harry promised, and Louis heard the click of a phone being hung up.


	8. "Calm him down . . . how?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [withers away to nothing because this chapter is so short]

When Harry got there, Louis was sitting cross-legged on his bed, his hands fisted in his hair, his eyes and full of tears.  Harry didn't even knock, just opened the door and walked in.  

"Okay Lou, breathe," Harry said soothingly, sitting down next to Louis and wrapping his arms around him.  "Shh, it's going to be okay."

 "I can't -- can't breathe," Louis gasped, punching the bed.  

 "You're going to be okay babe, you're going to be fine."  Harry said it with such authority that for a moment Louis believed him.  And then the moment ended and the breathless panic was back.

 "Harry I can't fucking breathe," Louis cried out.  He hated feeling weak; he hated looking weak in front of people he loved.  And now all he could do was cry in front of Harry, who he definitely loved he just didn't know in what way, and be the weak one.  

 "Listen to me.  You're going to get through this and you're going to go to school tomorrow and be okay and teach those kids everything they want to know about drama, and you know what?  You're going to be fucking fantastic at it, and if you don't do that then goddamnit Louis I swear to God I will make you," Harry said forcefully, looking Louis in the eyes.  Louis watched Harry's green eyes become glassy as the tears came.  

 "I'll be okay," Louis whispered, his voice rough from screaming into his pillow.  "I'll be fine."  

 "Good," Harry whispered back, half smiling, his eyes red.  He spread his arms and Louis fell into them, exhausted and still panicking, but less so.  Harry leaned backwards so he was resting on Louis's pillows and Louis curled into him like a child.  The two of them lay there as the silken veil of sleep fell over first Louis, and then Harry.

   
 "Whoa, what happened last night?"  It was Zayn's voice.  Louis blinked sleepily and looked up at his friend.

 "Hi Zayn," he said, closing his eyes again.  

 "Seriously, what happened?  Is there anything I should know about before I sleep here or . . . ?"

"No Zayn go away," Louis groaned, not opening his eyes.

 "Louis had a panic attack and I helped calm him down," Harry explained drowsily, finally waking up enough to defend himself.

 "Calm him down . . . how?"  Louis sat up and glared at his friend.

 "There was absolutely no sexual, sensual, or romantic activity.  Go away!"  He pointed at the door and Zayn rolled his eyes, but he left.

 "By the way Liam called about twelve times.  He must've butt dialed you or something because when I picked up all I heard was extremely R-rated sounds coming from the other end.  Also something about a girl named Taylor."  He ducked out of the door before the shoe hit his head.


	9. Taylor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> s o s h o r t

"So . . . a girl named Taylor, huh?" Louis asked casually, taking a sip of his water.  Liam groaned and covered his head with his arms.

 "Stop itttttttttt," he moaned, sounding like he'd rather not talk about it.  Of course, Louis pushed the matter, smiling devilishly.

 "From what I heard, the two of you are . . . erm . . . very close."  Liam picked up his head and glared at his friend.

 "Fine.  She's my girlfriend and she's lovely."  Louis nodded, taking another sip.  

 "Knew it."  Louis turned to the booth behind them and accepted a fiver from an anonymous hand -- who turned out to be not-so-anonymous when Liam heard Niall curse.

"Are you placing bets on my love life?" Liam asked cautiously.  Louis nodded, slipping the fiver into his wallet.  

 "Niall thought she was just a one-nighter, but HA I won."

 "Sorry, mate," Niall's voice said from the other booth, sounding melancholy.  Liam rolled his eyes and asked for three shots.  

   
 That night Louis invited Zayn, Niall, Liam, and Harry over for dinner.  The four of them arrived all at different times, except Liam and Niall, who'd apparently caught the same train.  Harry got there next, carrying a paper bag of -- surprise surprise -- bagels, and Zayn showed up last, fifteen minutes late, with Starbucks.  Not even for anyone else either, just for him, apparently.  Then another knock came at the door.  Louis went to open it, confused -- he hadn't invited anyone else.  When he opened the door, a girl stood there.  She was taller than he was, wearing jeans, a chiffon blouse, and sneakers.  

 "Um, who are you?"  Looking back on it, he thought yeah, it may have been a bit rude, but he was startled.  Tall hot girls didn't usually just show up at his door.

 "Oh, sorry, I'm Taylor.  Liam invited me, unless I'm not . . . welcome . . ." she trailed off and Louis had to feel bad for her.  She had an utterly confused expression on her face and the other boys weren't helping by just staring at her.

 "No, no, come in," he said quickly, opening the door wider.  Relief spread across her face and she walked inside, sitting down awkwardly in a chair next to Liam, who started to introduce them.

 "That's Zayn with the coffee, but we call him Zen sometimes because he's really deep.  That's Niall, and we think he's fucking this girl down the hall called Sarah but we can't prove anything yet.  Then there's Louis, who opened the door, and Harry, the curly one, and they're our resident gay couple --" Liam got cut off when Louis smacked him with a newspaper.  "Okay, okay, nothing's been determined but they're really adorable together and we all think it's going to happen in future."  Taylor nodded thoughtfully, her eyes  scanning each of the boys as Liam named them.  And just like that, there was another member of their little group. 


End file.
